


My Heart Never Stood A Chance

by clarkedarling



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Jealousy, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkedarling/pseuds/clarkedarling
Summary: When Anne is asked to be maid of honour at her friend's wedding, she is over the moon. However, when she learns that her successful ex-boyfriend is the best man, she decides that she needs to bring someone home to make him jealous. That someone is none other than Phillip Carlyle.





	1. PROLOGUE.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing It Could All Be So Simple far too much that I decided to write this too, the same trope but in reverse. Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t fair to say he hated Anne Wheeler. She was a nice enough girl, especially talented too. Her and her brother, W. D., had auditioned to be ensemble dancers originally, but over the course of time they had become quite integral to the show. They had been headliners a large number of times too. Phillip couldn’t deny she was also very pretty; the way her doe eyes would light up as she laughed was particularly butterfly-inducing. It was common knowledge that half of the male dancers had tried to date her at some point.

To say that he didn’t have a crush on her would be a lie. Who wouldn’t? She was irresistible, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop himself from staring at her occasionally, or thinking about her at particularly impractical times. However, she could not stand him. Her smile would fade when he entered a room, her laugh would dull down. She wouldn’t address him as the others did, using his first name, only an abrupt ‘Carlyle’ - and that was when she would address him. Mostly she would avoid and ignore him if she could, and had said very little to him in the short while she had been there.

It was odd, because by all accounts she was kind and warm-hearted, compassionate and generous. Everyone in the theatre adored her; Barnum had even had her round his house for dinner. She was bubbly around them, always joking and grinning.

Phillip had thought her behaviour not only strange, but rude. Almost immediately after hiring the Wheeler siblings he had wanted to fire her. He thought the way she treated him unprofessional - but Barnum wouldn’t allow it. He said that they would struggle finding dancers as good as the pair of them, and promised that she would warm up to him given time. It had been four months, and nothing had changed. If anything, she was icier.

Thinking back to her interview, where she had sat with a straight-back and a keen expression, clearly very eager to get the job, he remembered how attracted he had been to her. She was driven, she was confident, she was intelligent, and of course she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Even with just a touch of make-up and wearing gym clothes he had thought her to be breath-taking, so much so that he had barely said anything to her in that interview, unable to work up the nerve. She had given him a smile at the end, and even shook his hand. He could have sworn that there was an electric shock.

Now, months later, he couldn’t understand what he done to her to make her so . . . cold?

It was petty, but he treated her the way she did him; brusque and glacial. He would refer to her only by surname too, and would avoid eye contact with her. For him, however, it was because it hurt to see her look at him they way she did; as if he was something she had scooped off her shoe. He couldn’t stop his feelings for her, so instead he buried them under a layer of indifference.

He buried himself into his work too. Anything that could take his mind off of Anne, and his other vice alcohol, was a godsend. Paperwork, binge-watching _Black Mirror_ , the gym, reading crime thrillers - he indulged in it all, needing to find a respite.

On one particularly tiresome day after several meetings with investors that didn’t go quite as well as he could have hoped, Phillip returned to the theatre, his brain sore and aching, to find the troupe huddled around none other than Anne’s phone, watching some terribly humorous video.

“Whatever you’re all watching can’t be more important than rehearsal, can it?” Phillip called out, walking through the seats towards the stage. His tone was firm, and his expression stern. Some of the performers were taken aback by his booming voice, and scrambled back to their places, stretching limbs and warming up muscles.

Anne remained, however. Glaring at him, she paused the video, and crossed her arms. “We’ve been practising for two hours, I say we’re allowed a break Carlyle.” The way she spoke to him, as though he were some impertinent schoolchild, only infuriated him further.

“I’ll tell you when you can and can’t have a break Wheeler!” he exclaimed, feeling his nostrils flare slightly. “I am your employer."

Her eyebrow cocked slightly, but she didn’t react to his raised voice. In fact, she almost smirked, her peachy lips quirking ever so slightly. In that moment, he nearly forgot his anger when he spotted that the warm stage lights were casting a heavenly glow over Anne. Her makeup-less skin was glowing, and Phillip desperately tried to ignore how breathtaking she managed to look even with sweat seeping through her baggy white shirt, hair sticking to the nape of her neck.

“Actually, Barnum’s our employer,” she replied, gesturing to the name above the stage. “What’s your share again? Ten percent?"

For whatever reason, Anne was eager to clash horns with Phillip, raring for a fight. Sighing, he shook his head. “At least with my ten percent I can afford a nice, shiny car. What car do you drive?” he replied, throwing her sarcasm back at her. “Oh, that’s right, you take the subway. Next time show me some respect, please."

It was a low blow, to call her out for her lack of funds in comparison to him. He knew that Anne lived with her brother in Harlem, a neighbourhood notorious for being less well off than it’s other New York counterparts. From the look of fury that flashed across her face he knew he had overstepped, but the words had been said, and he was too tired and fed up to try to apologise. She was proud, and wouldn’t take it anyway, no matter how guilty he felt.

Realising that his meagre ten percent in shares wasn’t worth the migraine that was slowly starting to settle in, he took the rest of the day off, deciding to take a walk around the city rather than drive his flashy car he had been so quick to brag about.

-

Anne wished, more than anything, that she didn’t have the feelings she did about Phillip. She wouldn’t go as far as to say there were good, but she knew they were strong. Strong dislike, certainly. Strong _like_ on the other hand? She couldn’t say. There were things he did that rattled her, grated on her last nerves. Her blood would physically boil and she would have a strong desire to throttle him. Usually that would be after such instances where he would make demands of her that he didn’t anybody else, or he would make her work harder than the other dancers just because he could. Also, he would compare her lack of money to his abundance of money, as he did a few moments ago.

Then, he would do something completely out of the blue that would make her head spin and her breath quicken. He would give piggy back rides to Barnum’s daughters without complaint, grinning and laughing the whole time. Or, he would reserve seats in the front row or in the boxes for members of the company’s family; he had even offered Anne’s parents a seat before W. D. had told him their family were all in New Orleans.

The temptation to both kiss him and slap him at the same time could be overwhelming. However, he would sometimes do something so endearing or infuriating that she would forget about one thing or the other. For example, after he had pointed out her limited funds in front of everybody, she couldn’t understand what she had ever liked about him. He almost sauntered out, leaving the theatre once again without direction.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

“Well, you did provoke him,” she heard Lettie point out. Anne turned around and saw the older woman shrug. “What? Sweetie, it’s not all one-sided. You’re just as bad as each other."

Anne didn’t answer. She'd had the very same conversation with Lettie many times before. Once or twice, the older woman had even tried to insinuate that the pair had _feelings_ for one another. Anne had scoffed at that idea; whilst how she felt about Phillip was conflicting, mostly negative, she knew that he didn’t harbour any sort of fondness for her. The way he would avoid her eyes, ignore her until it was impossible, and almost roll his eyes when she would enter the room, told her everything she needed to know.

It almost hurt, knowing that Phillip didn’t think of her like that. Whilst Anne wouldn’t go as far as to say she liked him, she certainly had butterflies in her stomach when she would think about him - occasionally. He had some qualities about him that made her head spin. It would have been nice to know that Phillip thought that she was kind, or smart, or pretty.

Frowning, Anne shook her head. “He’s infuriating,” she sighed. Before she could say anything else, her phone began to ring. Glancing down, she saw a name that made her beam from ear to ear. _Dominique Carson_. Her best friend growing up. Though the pair hadn’t seen one another since Anne had moved to New York when she was eighteen - nearly four years ago - the pair had always stayed in contact. Answering the phone almost immediately, the voice on the other end made her nostalgic.

“What’s up?"

_“You’ll never guess who’s just landed in JFK!"_

Anne’s mouth fell open, and she felt like doing a little dance. Excitement was bubbling up inside of her, as she bounded over to W. D. and hit him in the shoulder. He winced and threw his arms up at her, when she put the phone on speaker.

“Dom, that’s amazing! Do you want me to meet you there? I can call a taxi or - "

_“Taxi? Don’t tell me Miss Big Shot needs a taxi!"_

A small part of Anne’s chest began to constrict as she realised that everyone back home is expecting her to be something she isn’t. Gritting her teeth, she glanced at W. D. and hesitated. “Of course, I’m kidding,” she replied, slowly. “I’ll meet you there at three o’clock, yeah?"

_“Sounds good! I’m going through customs now, but I’ll see you soon hun! Can’t wait!"_

Hanging up the phone, Anne started to pace back and forth, tapping the phone against her chin as she thought to herself. “What are you gonna do?” W. D. asked her, crossing his arms. “Unless you’re planning on dazzling Dom with the subway, you’ll have to get a taxi - you don’t own a car."

Suddenly, it was as though a lightbulb went off above Anne’s brain as she broke out into a wide grin. “No, but I know who does."

-

The last thing Phillip expected to find in his parking spot outside the theatre after his walk was a note. His jet black 1975 Jaguar E-Type, that had been his graduation present from a distant uncle which Phillip had put a lot of money into restoring, was nowhere to be seen. Heart thumping away in his chest, he reached for the note, expecting to read that it had been towed, or that somebody had stolen it.

No, it was worse. Anne, it appeared, had decided to take it for a spin. _‘Seeing if your ten percent is better than the subway’_ she had teased. He had thought it impossible for the younger Wheeler to rile him up anymore, but he had been proven wrong. She was behaving like a child, and he intended to let Barnum know immediately - or at least until he had gotten his car back. If her antics cost her her job, then he could hardly be blamed . . . could he?

Once again his head and heart - frustratingly - were tearing him in two different directions. Should he wait at the theatre for her, and his car, and march her up to Barnum’s office? Or, should he just walk home and sleep on it? Let Anne have her fun, and then make her face the consequences the next day. As he strolled towards his apartment, which was a fair walk away, he contemplated what he would say to her. Scold her, yes, but threaten to fire her though? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to it.

Half an hour later, he reached his doorstep. Fumbling around in his pockets for his keys, he realised that he had left the keys in his car - which struck him with the nasty thought that Anne was now inside his apartment. Crossing his fingers, he pressed the buzzer and waited for a response that he hoped would never come. He was horribly wrong.

 _“Hello?”_ While the voice was female and shared the Louisiana accent, it wasn’t Anne’s.

“Who’s this?"

_“Dominique, Anne’s friend. Who are you?"_

Phillip felt like slamming his head against the wall. “I’m Phillip Carlyle. I own the apartment. Can you let me - “ He was cut off. He heard the crackle of the speaker as the girl let go of the button upstairs, and then heard a small commotion as the button was turned on and off and then on again.

 _“ - Pour us some more drinks Dom, I’ll let Phil in.”_ That was certainly Anne’s voice. As the door clicked open and Phillip stepped inside, he furrowed his eyebrows. Phil? Where did that come from? Climbing the steps to the top floor, he knocked on the door to his apartment. Almost a second after he had knocked, it swung open and he was met by Anne’s wide eyes. Immediately she pulled him in close, and pressed a kiss to his lips. A frantic, almost desperate kiss that made his knees feel weak and all his nerve endings tingle. He could have sworn that her tongue brushed against his lip, but she had broke apart before he could really comprehend what was happening.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she leaned in close and took advantage of his stunned state to whisper in his ear. “Follow my lead, please. I’ll explain it all later, I promise."

With that she took his hand, turned around, and led him into the apartment. He thought he could see her blushing, but it was hard to tell. Plus, he was almost certainly bright red too - he’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t imagined what kissing Anne would be like, on more than one occasion. Their fingers interlinked and Anne’s kiss still burning on his lips, he tried his hardest to focus on the two intruders in his house but found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything.

“Oh lord, you must be the boyfriend,” said the other girl, Dominique. She was very pretty in her own right, with luscious black hair and dark, glossy skin. Her eyes were bright, and a shade of dark chestnut. Wearing grey cycling shorts and matching cropped shirt, she managed to appear very effortlessly glamorous, whilst still remaining casual and comfortable. Smiling widely, she surprised Phillip by enveloping him in a big hug. “When Anne told me she was dating _the_ Phillip Carlyle, I didn’t know what to think. A little worried for her, sure, but now that I see you together I am just so happy for her! That kiss - my, my, you are smitten!"

Dominique rambled on for a little while, as Phillip’s cheeks grew redder. What did she mean by he was smitten? Could she tell that he liked her? Could Anne tell? And why had she lied about them being a couple? And why was she in his apartment? There were so many questions, and yet no right time to ask her any. Besides, he was too flabbergasted to speak. Anne had kissed him! He wouldn’t have to spend any more time imagining what it would be like because now he knew what the real thing felt like - and it was incredible.

Anne sat down on the sofa, and patted beside her for Phillip to join. Reluctantly, still a little dazed, he took the seat and felt her hand slide once again into his. It was warm, and he couldn’t help but remark on how well they fitted together.

“Phil, what do you say?"

Shaking himself out of a stupor, he realised that both of them had asked him a question, to which he had not been listening to. He cocked his head, and asked them to repeat themselves. Anne laughed, and squeezed his hand somewhat affectionately - he knew she was warning him. “Bless him, he’s tired,” she smiled, though her eyes were wide with caution. “Dom asked if you’d wanna be my plus one to her wedding next week. I’m her maid of honour."

The last part of the sentence was said with such pride and joy that Phillip was momentarily distracted by the shocking previous statement. Anne was genuinely grinning now, at him, something she hadn’t done in a long time. He liked it, even if she was perhaps forcing it. He didn’t want to ruin it, though he couldn’t believe what she was asking him.

“I’m sorry?” he choked. “Plus one?"

Anne laughed again, though she sounded a little more nervous. “Yeah, seeing as you are my boyfriend."

 _“Your boyfriend,”_ Phillip wanted to test the terminology out on his tongue. He really liked how it sounded, and even more how it felt. However, he couldn’t commit to something as humongous as this. Anne was asking him to go to a wedding with him, presumably in Louisiana, where her friends and family would also be in attendance. As tempting as the offer was, the pair did not get on. How could he pretend to be in a relationship with someone who had barely spoken a word to him that wasn’t laced with distaste?

His hesitation to answer was noted by the two girls, as Dominique got up from the sofa. “I’ll let you sleep on it,” she said, politely. “I know it’s a big ask, coming all the way to New Orleans."

Whilst Anne said her goodbyes to her friend in the doorway, the pair hugging for a very long while, Phillip remained seated. He was speechless. He briefly smiled at Dominique as she left the apartment, though still felt as though he were trapped in a dream. As the door closed, Anne sheepishly walked over to him, fiddling with her nails. It was apparent that she was embarrassed by the whole situation, and clearly hadn’t expected to be caught.

“I’m sorry to spring this all on you - "

“Spring this on me? Anne, what the hell just happened? Who was that? Why was she here? And why did you tell her we were a couple?"

Her cheeks were bright red, and she couldn’t meet his stare. That reaction took him by surprise. He had expected some quick-witted response, perhaps even an attempt to make him feel as though he were in the wrong. However, she appeared ashamed, an emotion he had previously thought her incapable of because she had always been so exuberant, so confident. He suddenly felt guilty for raising his voice at her, especially when he saw that tears were forming in her usually steely eyes. Unable to stop himself, he took her by the hands and pulled her gently down onto the sofa to sit across from him.

“That was Dom,” she began, in a voice threatening to crack. To his shock, she was clinging on to his hands, as though they were anchoring her. It was somewhat nice, to feel needed by her. “We’ve been best friends since we were old enough to walk. She called me earlier and told me she had landed in New York and wanted me to pick her up. I was stuck - I don’t exactly have a car I could use, and a taxi was out of the question."

Phillip furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would she expect you to pick her up if she knows you don’t have a car?"

Anne gulped. “Everyone back home in New Orleans thinks that I’m . . . successful. That I have nice things, like a car and a fancy apartment. I couldn’t tell her the truth."

“Why do they think that?” He was only getting more confused.

“I told them so,” Anne sighed, her lip wobbling a little. She pulled her hands free, as she dabbed at her tears. “Look, I can’t explain it, you won’t understand. Just know that I need you to come to that wedding. When Dom came in here, she told me about how she got engaged, and how she wants me to be maid of honour."

“Ask W. D. to go with you then."

He was exhausted after a week of stressful meetings that had led nowhere, and his limbs ached from walking all afternoon. All he wanted was a long soak in the bath and to sleep for hours. He didn’t have enough patience to ask question after question about something he didn’t quite understand in the first place. Plus, the realisation that she was only there because she wanted something from him was dawning on him. Did she actually want him at that wedding for his company, or his social standing?

Shaking her head, she was starting to build her resolve back up again. “He won’t go. He had a . . . thing with Dom a few years back. Please, Carlyle, I need somebody to go with me - "

“Why?” Phillip couldn’t help but sound blunt. He had gone from having her lips on his - something he could barely believe - to her calling him Carlyle again, and that hurt.

Looking down at her nails, Anne seemed reluctant to answer. Almost embarrassed. “Dom told me that . . . that my ex is going to be there,” she muttered, and he definitely heard humiliation in her voice. “He’s the Best Man. I can’t face him alone. I can’t let him think that I came all the way to New York for nothing. And I can’t let Dom down. She’s like a sister to me."

Phillip didn’t know what to say. He was tired and impatient, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t want to disappoint Anne. It was pathetic, really, that despite their limited contact throughout the time they had known one another, he was considering doing this huge favour for her. Sighing, he came to his senses in time to shake his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what this has to do with me."

Her gaze on him faltered, as he let her down. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“If I bring you home, he’ll see that I’m doing just fine without him,” she admitted. What she didn’t say, and what Phillip could infer between the lines, was that she _wasn’t doing fine._

When he didn’t say anything for a while, Anne leant forward, much like an eager puppy, with wide eyes. “I’ve got a friend, he’s rich. He can invest in the theatre, I know you’re looking for investors. And . . . and I’ll clean your car for two weeks, and I’ll . . . clean your apartment! And I’ll . . . "

Phillip interjected before she could go on, as humorous as her offers were. He found it rather sweet too. He had no intention of asking her to clean his car or apartment - but her friend that could invest? That he would take her up on. However, was it all worth it? He liked Anne far too much to allow his feelings to be fooled around with by playing make-believe - and yet, he couldn’t ignore the fact that for a week he would get to be by her side, holding her hand and maybe even kissing her.

“I’ll think about it."

-

Phillip did think about it. He thought about it all evening and night, into the early hours of the morning and all the way through to the next day. Twenty-four hours had passed since Anne had left his apartment, and he hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind; it didn’t help that her subtle and enticing perfume still lingered in the room.

He wanted to say yes. God, did he want to say yes to acting her boyfriend, but that was the problem - it would all be an act. Could he cope when it was all over, going from being practically enemies to an albeit pretend couple, holding hands and beaming at one another, to being estranged again? Would it make caring for her hurt even more knowing what it was like to have her, only for the opportunity to be ripped from under his nose?

What about the money she had offered? Sure, the theatre needed a small amount of work and marketing certainly should be improved, but Phillip was confident that he’d find an investor elsewhere. Plus, it felt wrong to be taking money from someone just to pretend to be in a relationship with them.

After much deliberation he decided that it would be too difficult.

Remembering how upset she had been, he knew that he should tell her in person. Despite it being a Saturday, he knew that she would be at the theatre, practising some routine that she had choreographed in minutes. Anne was a lot of things, but there was no doubt that she was certainly talented and dedicated.

Sure enough, she was centre stage, performing a dance to a slow R’n’B song that Phillip was unfamiliar with. She was completely lost in the music, eyes close. He stood still for a while, completely transfixed watching her, when Constantine joined in the dance. Suddenly what had been a blissful and tranquil dance became sensual and passionate. His hands were around her waist, gripping her bare flesh, face pressed into her neck. Phillip had to look away, gritting his teeth.

“Making eyes at my little sister?” inquired W. D., as he walked through the aisle seats.

Phillip crossed his arms, and shook his head. W. D. was intimidating, to say the least. When it came to his sister, younger than him by eight years, he could be so protective of her, especially where boys were involved. “I came to talk to Anne."

“They’re practising for some competition,” W. D. gestured towards Constantine and Anne on the stage. “Big cash prize apparently.” Phillip nodded, though couldn’t bring himself to look up again at the pair performing together. It was no secret that the tattooed dancer had a huge crush on the youngest Wheeler, but her brother’s presence had been enough to deter him from making a move thus far. However, under the guise of dance partners, Constantine was allowed to get as close to Anne as he wanted. “Trust me, I don’t like it anymore than you."

That last comment took Phillip a little by surprise. The knowing glint in W. D.’s eyes told him that the dancer knew more than he was perhaps letting on. Shifting uncomfortably, he looked down at his feet. “Listen, can you tell Anne that I can’t help her out with . . . the favour?"

“You mean you pretending to be her boyfriend at Dominique’s wedding?” This shocked Phillip even more, as he knitted his brows and his jaw slipped open. “Oh yes, she told me. Don’t worry, I did tell her that stealing people’s cars and breaking into their homes was very much illegal."

Phillip would later learn that W. D. had been enraged upon learning about his sister’s actions, shouting and cursing until he was blue in the face, reminding her that Phillip was their employer and they’d be lucky to find another job elsewhere.

“Tell me you think what she’s asking me is mad?” he pleaded.

W. D. shrugged. “Yes, it does sound like some badly written rom-com,” he nodded. “However, you don’t know her ex. I get why she’s so desperate to impress him. The guy is somewhat of a legend back home. He’s made . . . well, he’s made quite a big name for himself.” Despite his glowing words, his expression was contradictory. 

“But you’re not a fan?”

In answer W. D. made a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, eyes narrowed. “I can’t stand him,” he hissed. “He’s manipulative and controlling. She was never herself when she was around him.” He hesitated before he continued, glancing Phillip up and down. “Look, I wouldn’t be telling you this if Anne hadn’t asked you to go with her. Her ex . . . he was the captain of the football team. Due to that fact, and that he was somewhat good-looking, he had a lot of admirers. He loved the attention, and when Anne’s back was turned he lapped it all up."

“He cheated on Anne?” Phillip was stunned. Why would this guy look at anyone else when he had her?"

“Multiple times,” W. D. seethed. “I could never bring myself to tell her about it because I knew she loved him so much, and that it would break her heart to know that he hadn’t been loyal. Then, she dumped him herself and I thought she was done with him. Except - "

“Except now she wants to bring me along to make him jealous, so that must mean she’s not over him?"

Nodding, W. D. seemed sympathetic, almost as though he pitied Phillip for the unfortunate part he was playing in Anne’s plan. There was no way W. D. could know about his feelings, could he? “I know that you care for her,” he admitted, softly. “In a much more . . . genuine way than handsy over there.” He gestured to Constantine on-stage, who was currently running his fingers along Anne’s thigh. W. D.’s jaw tightened at the sight, but bit back his anger, telling himself it was all just a dance and that to call him out on his behaviour would only embarrass Anne. “I think you should go."

“Really?"

“Yeah, I do,” W. D. replied, a grin appearing on his face. “I can trust you to make sure Anne doesn’t go back to that dog of an ex."

Phillip didn’t want to seem to eager and allow W. D. to see how far his care for Anne runs. Instead, he cocked his head and mulled over his next words. “But if she wants to get back together with him, how do you know that I won’t bother trying to stop her?"

The grin on W. D.’s face widened, as the impish glint in his eye shone again. “Because we both know that if Anne does get back together with her ex she won’t come home, and neither of us want her disappearing back to Louisiana now, do we?"

Before Phillip could respond, this time absolutely certain that W. D. knew the truth, he spotted Anne walking towards them. She was glistening with sweat, hair sticking to her forehead and neck, and yet she was still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. His words, as they always did, got stuck in his throat and his mouth hung open like a goldfish’s.

“Cat got your tongue, Carlyle?” she teased him, using the towel slung around her shoulders to dab at her forehead. When he didn’t answer her she seemed to regret her choice of phrase, and gave him a surprisingly shy glance. Once again, the second time in twenty-four hours, she couldn’t even look him in the eyes; and looking him straight in the eyes was something she would always do as if challenging him. She was nervous, an emotion Phillip sometimes thought she was incapable of. “Look, about that thing I asked you to do . . . "

“I’ll do it,” he answered, almost immediately. He shocked both himself and Anne.


	2. DAY ONE.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne introduces Phillip to her mama and grandma, and an unexpected visitor arrives at the airport.

Anne found it increasingly difficult to ignore the butterflies swarming in the pit of her stomach when she spotted Phillip stood at the airport terminal, suitcase in hand. He looked utterly bewildered, as though he couldn’t quite believe where he was and why he was there. Anne couldn’t believe that he had actually turned up - not that she didn’t think he wouldn’t make good on his promise, she just couldn’t quite wrap her head around how they had gotten there in the first place. He was going to fool her family and friends into thinking he was her boyfriend. That was insane. _They were insane._

She began to walk towards him, her own bag slung over her shoulders. Whilst she had dressed appropriately for an almost four hour plane journey in beige sweatpants and an old white jumper, Phillip was wearing a rather expensive looking suit. A Burberry one at that.

“A bit overdressed ain’t you?” Anne called out. Phillip’s head swung around and clapped eyes on her.

He tugged at his jacket, and shrugged. “I had to come straight from meetings,” he sighed. As he said it, she could see how exhausted he was. “I can change if you want - "

“No,” she blurted out, almost too quickly. “My mama’s gonna love it. Very professional.” She didn’t want to admit that he looked insanely attractive in the suit, the dark grey tones bringing out the piercing blue colour in his eyes.

“Well, if your mom’s going to like it,” he replied, with a roll of his eyes, though she could hear amusement in his voice. A smile was even threatening to break onto his features.

-

The plane ride wasn’t as awkward as Anne thought it was going to be. After getting over the initial shock of flying economy, Phillip loosened his tie and started to relax slightly. He even told her to call him Phillip. She rather liked this calmer side of him. He was no longer behaving as though he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Instead, they were trying to converse, making small talk.

As they begin to descend on Louisiana, Anne felt that she should let Phillip in on some key information before he gets thrown into the lions den. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she took a deep breath. “Listen, you should know a couple of things before we get to my mama's,” she began, watching his expression closely. “Firstly - “

“Wait, we’re going to your mom’s house?” He was very clearly shocked, his eyes wide.

Anne nodded, awkwardly. Perhaps she shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to tell him. “Well, that’s the first thing - we’re going to be staying with my mama for the week. I don’t think she knows you’re coming.”

Phillip looked horrified. He put his head in his hands, and groaned. “Right, so you’re planning to spring me on her, then? Brilliant. What else have I got to know?”

“My grandma lives with my mama too. So we’ll be staying with her as well.” He didn’t lift his head up, but gave another groan. Anne continued on, tensely. “Also, you should know that my friends and family all think that I’m a successful dancer, and I’d appreciate it if you keep that pretence up for me?”

“But you are successful?”

Anne gave him a strained smile. “I’m comfortable. Successful is driving a jet black 1975 Jaguar E-Type.” At this comment she saw Phillip swallow hard, and a faint blush creep up on his cheeks. He appeared sheepish. Clearly he was remembering his remark from the previous day, where he had boasted about his money. “If they ask I’m . . . on Broadway, or something. Please, Phillip, it’s important to me.” It wasn’t lost on her that she called him by his name, not his surname as she was accustomed to referring him to. It felt nice to say.

“So, besides your mom and grandma, is there anyone else you need to warn me about? Any foul-mouthed, handsy uncles - or is that just my family?” He jokes? She even saw a tiny grin stretch onto his features.

Smirking at his comment, Anne nodded. “Well, my family all live in the same neighbourhood, pretty much,” she replied, steadily. She didn’t want to scare him too much. “Mama’s probably going to put a BBQ together, so I can see them all again. It’s been a while. I’ll introduce you to them.”

“There’s not a lot of them, is there? I mean like a couple of cousins or something?”

“More like seventeen,” she muttered under her breath.

Phillip’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Seventeen? How many other relatives have you got?”

Sighing, Anne sat back in her chair, picturing a family tree and all the branches growing out of it. “I mean, mama’s got three brothers and two sisters. They’ve got wives and husbands and kids, and some of them have kids too, so we’re talking like thirty people.” Phillip was starting to look nervous, and she didn’t want him bailing at the last minute, so she reached out and put a hand on his, as a comforting gesture. She tried desperately to ignore the spark she felt when they touched. “Don’t worry, they’re all super welcoming. They’ll make you feel like part of the family in no time.”

Part of the family? Was that what she wanted? It was hard to tell if what she was saying was all to make sure Phillip remained calm, or if it was because she genuinely felt that way.

“OK. That’s good.” She noticed that he didn’t take his hand out from under hers, and felt conflicted by it. Was it because he didn’t care, and wasn’t bothered it was there? Or was it because he did care, and didn’t want to move his hand? Her head was starting to spin. “As long as that’s it for the surprises."

She laughed. “I promise. I won’t spring anything else on you."

-

“What was that you were saying about not springing anything else on me?” Phillip managed to say in a strained voice.

The pair of them were descending the escalator, his nerves rattled. He was trying to keep an air of composure about him, with the hope that if he at least acted as though he were calm he’d start to feel it. However, the second he saw who was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, holding a bouquet of gorgeous flowers and a sign that read ‘ANNE’, he felt his heart sink.

He wasn’t a huge sports fan, but he would recognise Marcus Montgomery anywhere; his bleached blonde hair was certainly eye-catching. The talk of the tabloids, he was a star quarterback for the New Orleans Saints. Usually photographed in a compromising situation with some model on his arm, Marcus was infamous for being the ‘bad boy’ of sports.

So why was he the one to welcome Anne home?

Suddenly, he felt her tense up beside him. He saw her breath hitch in her throat, and he knew immediately that Marcus was her ex-boyfriend. Remembering everything W. D. had told him about her ex, he knew that for her to see him again was painful. Wanting to reassure her, he held her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m here,” he whispered, and felt her squeeze his hand back in return.

When they finally got to the ground floor, Marcus bound over to them, a wide grin on his face. He was wearing blue ripped jeans, a soft grey t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers that must have cost him a fortune. His jet black beard was well-groomed, and made him look a lot older than he was. He was broad-shouldered, and an impressive stature. His skin was dark, and covered in tattoos, with two full sleeves of ink. The man drew attention from everyone, most of all other women. His dashing smile started to falter when he noticed Anne’s hand in Phillip’s, though he didn’t slow down. Instead he flung his arms around her, and lifted her off the ground. Burying the jealousy he inevitably felt whenever he saw her with another man, Phillip tried to appear indifferent. He saw the uneasy expression on Anne’s face, and knew that to make this situation about him would be selfish.

“Annie!” Marcus exclaimed, as he set her down. He was taller than Anne, which irked Phillip. “God, it’s been a minute ain’t it? You look . . . man, you look good. Here, I got you these.” He held out the flowers - an expensive looking bouquet of roses. She took them, cautiously, saying nothing. “Do you like the sign? Malika helped men with the glitter. You remember Malika, my niece? Can you believe she’s twelve now? She asks about you all the time - “

“What are you doing here, Marcus?” Anne finally blurted out. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but Phillip could hear a little wobble.

“Your mama thought it’d be nice if I came to pick you up,” he shrugged, clearly not seeing an issue. Then, for the first time he looked at Phillip. He looked him up and down, making him feel as though he were under a microscope. Marcus didn’t smile, merely pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “We didn’t realise you’d be bringing somebody along.”

Anne slipped her arm through Phillip’s, clinging onto him. He could feel her trembling ever so slightly. She was nervous - he didn’t think it was possible for her to get nerves. He could tell that she hadn’t been expecting him here, and thus hadn’t prepared herself to see him after so long. He felt sympathetic for her, and wanted nothing more than to comfort her. So, he began the act of the besotted boyfriend.

Holding out his hand to Marcus, he flashed his politest smile despite the urge to knock Anne’s ex off his feet. “Hi, I’m Phillip Carlyle,” he introduced himself. “Anne’s boyfriend.”

Marcus’s shock was evident, and he warily shook Phillip’s hand. He glanced between the pair, and narrowed his eyes. “You’re that writer, ain’t you? I remember you from some award show I went to last year. People love to gossip about you nearly as much as they love gossiping about me.”

_And so the competition begins,_ Phillip thought.

“I’m sure mama’s waiting for us,” Anne piped up. “Shall we make a move?”

The second they’d stepped out of the airport, a cluster of paparazzi had gathered, and were relishing in the sight of Marcus Montgomery and Phillip Carlyle together. Groaning, Phillip knew that they’d be the talk of social media later on, with people wondering how the pair knew each other.

Marcus’s car was a navy blue Maserati GranTurismo MC Stradale, and ensured that while he and Anne were very comfortable in the front, Phillip was squashed in the back, knees practically pressed to his chest. The ride to Anne’s family home was twenty minutes, but it felt like hours. Marcus was talking, and talking, and _talking_ all about his career. He also liked to point out buildings or parks that held some sentimental memory for him and Anne. For example, he drove past a Dairy Queen that the pair had their first date at in ninth grade.

Phillip felt awkward, and Anne seemed uncomfortable, whilst Marcus remained oblivious to everyone else but himself. Phillip could see why W. D. despised him - he was incredibly self-involved and narcissistic. He hadn’t even noticed how reserved and quiet Anne was being. Reaching between the seats, Phillip once again offered Anne his hand, which she took gratefully, flashing him a small but warm smile in the mirror. Marcus saw the exchange, and broke off from his chatter about his latest football game, which he made a point of _repeatedly_ telling them he had won for the team.

“How long have you two been together then?” he asked, curiously.

“Six months,” Anne answered.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “So it’s serious then?”

“Yeah,” Phillip said, catching Anne’s eye in the rearview mirror. They’d concocted a story on the plane ride, so they knew what to say when questions like this came up. “We even live together, in New York.”

“How’d you two meet?” Phillip could tell that Anne coming home with a boyfriend had thrown a wrench in Marcus’s plans to win back Anne - which was made clear when he arrived at the airport with roses for her.

Anne was quick to answer, swivelling in her chair so she could face Phillip. “We met backstage at a show I was in,” she began, with a smile that looked completely genuine on her lips. It was a true story; they had first met backstage at a show when he and P. T. had been scouting for potential new dancers. “We were introduced by a mutual friend. I recognised him from the tabloids, but didn’t say anything. He looked unbelievably fine in some custom suit, so I was trying really hard to keep my cool. We talked for a little, and he blew me away with how nice and charming he was.”

“I was too shy to ask for her number,” Phillip added, going off script. He was being honest - he truly didn’t have the guts to ask for her number. He had to ask around to see who had it (under the pretence of needing it for employee records) and eventually when Lettie gave it to him, he had lost his nerve. Her number still sat in his phone, a year later, un-dialed. “She was wearing this unbelievable blue dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, and found myself stumbling over my words as I tried to talk to her. I was so shy around her. It was only a few minutes, but it was enough that I couldn’t stop thinking about her for weeks later.”

The way Anne was looking at Phillip gave him goosebumps. Her hazel eyes were searching his own, her lips parted ever so slightly. It was as though she was trying to work something out, fitting puzzle pieces together. Sheepishly, he gave her a tiny smile. She looked as though she was going to say something, when Marcus chipped in.

“Well, we’re here,” he announced. “Home sweet home."

Looking out of the window, Phillip saw that he was in a modest neighbourhood, the traditional Louisiana shotgun houses lined up and down the street. They all looked a little worse for wear, with crooked fences and chipped roof tiles, though a lot of love and care had been put into them. Painted lovely colours like Carolina blue, dandelion yellow, and brick red, they all looked charming and unique. Stepping out of the car, Phillip noticed that the road was cracked, full of pot holes, and the wooden telegraph poles were rotting away - not a lot of government money was put into taking care of this neighbourhood it appeared, leaving the work up to the locals. Despite the worn out road and termite-ridden telegraph poles, people had put a lot of pride in their gardens, growing plants native to New Orleans; red buckeye trees, sweet and Southern magnolias, Louisiana phlox, and swamp sweetbells.

The second he stepped foot out of the car, he was hit by the July heat and the smell of barbecues firing up. Children were playing basketball out in the street, and music can be heard blasting from somebody’s porch. Phillip smiled; it was exactly the kind of neighbourhood he would have wanted to grow up in. Surrounded by good food, good music, and good people.

Marcus was the first to get to Anne’s car door, leaving Phillip to get the bags. He watched as Marcus offered his hand to Anne, who took it, bashfully. She was still unsure around him, though had noticeably opened up a little bit more. Phillip gritted his teeth.

The door to one of the houses, painted a lavender purple colour swung open, and two women came bursting out. One was tall, with dark, braided hair to her elbows, and a beaming smile. Phillip was struck by how much she looked not only like Anne, but W. D. too, and how youthful she looked. The eldest Wheeler sibling was twenty-eight, which had to put their mom in her late forties at least. Looking at her now, Phillip would have said she seemed no older than thirty. She had a few freckles across her nose and under her eyes, and was wearing a simple navy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Tears were streaming down her face as she threw her arms around her daughter.

“Oh baby,” she exclaimed, as she placed her hands on Anne’s face, who was also crying. “You look so beautiful! When did you get so grown?”

Anne laughed, and enveloped her mom in another hug. It was evident that despite the independent front she liked to put up, she still missed her family like crazy. “Mama I’ve missed you,” she muttered into her shoulder.

“Ain’t you forgetting somebody?” cried out a voice from the porch. It was Anne’s grandma, a short woman wearing an incredible brightly patterned headscarf. Again, she did not look like a woman in her seventies, her skin fresh and glowing.

“Grandma!” Anne called out as she embraced her. The height difference would have been almost comedic if it wasn’t for the sentimentality of the meeting. She kissed her grandma on both cheeks, as the older woman stroked her granddaughter’s face. “Of course I missed you too."

“Lord, you are looking skinny!” was her grandma’s response. She held Anne at arm’s length, and examined her closely. “What are they feeding you up in New York? Water and straw? You need some proper home-cooking in you girl.”

Anne was clearly used to her grandma’s quick tongue, and merely laughed it off. As the pair hugged again, her mom finally spotted Phillip. “And who might this be, Anne?” she called out. Her eyes were narrowed, as Marcus stood beside her, an arm around her shoulder. So Anne’s ex-boyfriend and her mom were close? That wasn’t a good sign.

“This is Phillip, mama,” Anne introduced, as she came to stand by his side, her hand linked with his. “He’s my boyfriend.”

It certainly irked Phillip to know that Anne hadn’t told her family that he was coming. He felt like a burden now, thrust upon her mom and grandma without warning. He smiled at her mom, despite his nerves raging inside his chest, and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Wheeler,” he greeted, politely.

“It’s just Ms,” she replied, in an indifferent tone. She glanced at her daughter, and back at Phillip’s outstretched hand, and took it, apprehensively. “Anne didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”

The mood was uncomfortable now, as both Ms Wheeler and Marcus scrutinised Phillip, still wearing his Burberry suit. It wasn’t quite the warm welcome he had hoped for. He felt almost sick, and wanted to clamber back inside the car. However, to his surprise, he heard Anne’s grandma call to them from the porch. “Is anyone gonna let me see the boy then?”

Anne led him up the short path, past a well-kept garden, and nudged him in front of her grandma. She pursed her lips and hummed as she gave him the once over. She smelt like she’d spent the morning baking, overwhelmed in a calming scent of cinnamon, and was still wearing her apron, stained with flour. Gesturing for him to turn for her, Phillip caught Anne’s eyes and saw her struggling to keep a straight face. Seemingly satisfied, her grandma broke out into a wide grin. “If I was thirty years younger,” she sighed, reaching out to hold his arm. He couldn’t help but chuckle a little, and heard Anne laugh too.

She took him inside the house, which was nothing like he had expected. Pictures of Anne and W. D. adorned almost every inch of wall. He couldn’t get a good look at any of them, as Anne’s grandma was whisking him through the house and into the kitchen, though he made a mental note to take the time to browse them late. The house itself was small, and a little cramped, however the Wheeler women had done a spectacular job of utilising the little space they had. Every piece of furniture was repurposed or reclaimed, placed in just the right position. The colour palette was a mixture of golds, greens and oranges, making the house feel as though it were bathed in sunlight. The penchant for plants had spread from the outside to the inside, with plants adorning every mantelpiece, corner and even coffee table.

Reaching the kitchen, Phillip was hit by the most mouthwatering scents he had ever smelled. Spices he couldn’t name danced through his nostrils as he spotted a pot simmering away on the stove. Freshly baked cinnamon rolls sat on the countertop, steam still rising from them. Anne shot one eager glance at her grandma, who simply nodded in return, before she dove towards the cinnamon rolls. Picking the best-looking one, she took a bite, and closed her eyes. The moan that escaped her mouth sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t help but watch as she licked her lips, the sweet, sugary glaze dripping down her chin. Swallowing hard, he had to look away, and instead set the bags down by the hallway.

“Go on,” her grandma smiled, patting his arm. “Try one. Mind you don’t get anything down that suit though.”

The cinnamon rolls were unlike anything he’d ever eaten. They were sticky and sweet sure, but there was a little fiery heat to them that he hadn’t expected. They made his tongue tingle and his tastebuds explode. “They’re incredible, Mrs Wheeler,” he told her, after he had finished his. Anne was on her third.

She waved off his formalities. “Please, call me Evangeline. When I’ve known you a bit longer, I’ll let you call me Eva.”

“Anne, come say goodbye to Marcus,” Ms Wheeler called from the doorway. When Anne hesitated, she gave her daughter a wide-eyed look. “Baby, he drove all the way to the airport to pick you up, please come and say goodbye.”

Giving in, Anne sighed like a petulant teenager, and followed her mom outside. Phillip watched from the window as Marcus once again threw his arms around her, and held her close, their embrace lasting a little too long. He whispered something in her ear, then pulled away and waved as he got into his car. Anne and her mom came back inside, this time closing the door behind them.

-

Phillip was sat on the patchwork couch, with Anne sat impossibly close to him, her hand linked with his on his knee. He had to keep reminding himself that she was trying to sell their relationship, and that any gesture or flirtation was purely part of this act. However, when their knees would brush, it was hard to remember anything else.

They had cups of coffee on the table, in quirky, misshapen mugs that she had told him had been created during her mom’s ‘pottery phase’. Sat across from them was her mom and grandma. Whilst Evangeline seemed relaxed, perched comfortably in her rocking chair Phillip had dragged in from the porch so she had somewhere to sit, Anne’s mom, Gloria, appeared to be more tense. Her hands were clasped together and her eyes alert.

“So, Phillip, what do you do?” she asked, in an attempt to make conversation.

It was hard to say why Anne’s mom was being so rigid and unyielding towards him. The smile on her face was strained, and her posture was tense. It pained Phillip. The small part of him that imagined him and Anne together, for real, wanted her family to truly like him. It seemed that, for whatever reason, Gloria Wheeler did not particularly like him.

“I’m a writer,” he answered, modestly. “Mostly plays, but I have written the occasional short story.” He didn’t much like talking about himself.

“Anything I would have seen or read?” Gloria inquired, leaning forward in her chair. 

He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m not sure, they’re mostly on Broadway. I don’t know if they would be something you’d be interested in.”

Gloria’s eyes widened, and she frowned. “Are you saying that you’re plays are too sophisticated for me? That you’re - “

As Phillip tried to backtrack and explain himself, Anne jumped to his defence. “Mama, you know he didn’t mean it like that,” she told her, with a sigh. She turned to look at him, and gave him a small smile. “He’s humble, ok? He likes to think that nobody’s seen his work.” He couldn’t help but look her in the eyes, his lips tugging upwards. That was true; he couldn’t bear the thought of people having seen his plays, and hates the arrogance of assuming people have. How could she know that? 

“Broadway? Lord, you must be good,” Evangeline exclaimed. She ignored the daggers her daughter was shooting her, and grinned. “Is that how you met? In one of your plays?”

Once again Anne recounted the somewhat accurate, somewhat falsified story of how the pair of them met, whilst Phillip merely sat and nodded along, smiling at the occasional comment. As Anne spoke, he got lost in watching her. Her smile, even though he knew it wasn’t real, was still dazzling. He also adored how strong her accent had gotten since she had landed back home in New Orleans. It was endearing and entertaining. Her words were falling from her lips like honey dripping from a spoon. Her hand was still entwined with his; warm and soft as velvet. Little tendrils of her hair would brush his ear or neck, and he would feel a shiver go down his spine. He knew he was staring at her, though felt comfort in the fact that he could pass it off as part of their act.

“And six months later here we are!”

As Anne finished, Phillip was snapped out of his reverie, and back to reality. He saw the horrified expression on Gloria’s face, and felt his stomach drop.

“What do you mean six months? You’ve been dating six months and you ain’t said a word about it to me that whole time?” Of course she hadn’t told her family - there was nothing to tell. However, for all intents and purposes, she had kept it from them for that whole time.

Anne was struggling to answer, at least not without offending her mom, and glanced between Phillip and Gloria. Fortunately, Evangeline came to the rescue. “I think dinner is ready.”

-

After dinner, Phillip couldn’t believe how much he had eaten. He’d had three helpings of the seafood gumbo Anne’s grandmother had made, several slices of bread and butter, and a few more cinnamon rolls. He couldn’t remember ever having a better meal, which said something considering the amount of 5-star restaurants he had eaten in back in New York. Barnum would insist on holding meetings with potential clients in such restaurants, their food and drinks accounted as ‘business expenses’.

Wiping his plate clean with his last slice of bread, he hummed in satisfaction. “That was delicious, Mrs Wheeler,” he said with a smile to Evangeline, who had been watching him eat for the past few minutes.

“I told you to call me Evangeline,” she replied, beaming brightly. “And I’m glad you enjoyed it. Do me a favour and tell Anne to eat up. She looks all skin and bones.”

Beside him Anne sighed. “Grandma, look! I’ve finished everything on my plate.”

Biting back a smile, Phillip watched as she even held up her empty plate to show her grandma, who merely waved it off. “No need to hold it up child, I can see it. My eyesight hasn’t failed me yet. What I meant was you’ve only had the one helping.” It was easy to see where Anne got her feistiness from. “Phillip here has had three.”

“That’s because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

He shook his head. “Actually, it’s because I’ve never had food this good before.”

Evangeline slapped her hand against her knee, making them all jump. She was laughing, as she pointed a finger at him. “You are a keeper.”

Phillip could feel his cheeks burn up a little bit. He caught Anne’s eyes, and gave her a sheepish shrug. Whilst sitting eating dinner with Anne’s family, pretending to be her smitten boyfriend, was absolutely awkward for him, he wondered if it was just as awkward for her. She seemed cool as a cucumber.

“I’m surprised Anne’s not cooked for you yet,” Gloria piped up. She hadn’t eaten nearly as much as everyone else, instead pushing her food around her plate with a fork. “She’s like all Wheeler women - we’re fantastic cooks.”

“Phil does all the cooking, actually,” Anne jumped in. “He makes great . . . pasta.” It took a lot not to snort at her comment. He wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook, and the idea of Anne cooking up anything was an amusing yet frightening one. She was impulsive and stubborn, two qualities that were best left out of the kitchen.

“Is that so?” Gloria cocked her head to the side. It was remarkable how much Anne resembled her mother; not only were their smiles similar, but they shared the exact same eye colour too. “You must cook for us one night whilst you’re here, Phillip.”

Nodding, though inside he was vigorously crying no, he forced a grin on his face. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

As though afraid more questions about their fake relationship were going to be asked, Anne got up from the table and started to carry the plates out. Phillip helped her without hesitation, carrying the pot behind her. After noticing the lack of a dishwasher, Phillip even offered to wash up. Anne, almost as compensation for roping him into making dinner, stood beside him at the sink as she washed the dishes, letting him dry up.

Phillip didn’t say anything, but watched as Anne scrubbed the plates clean, ensuring that every inch was gleaming. He liked how she wasn’t worried about breaking a nail, or chipping her nail polish either. She had that same kind of ethic at work too - she didn’t care how sweaty she got or how messy her hair was, she would practice and practice until her routine was perfect.

“You’re looking at me funny,” she said, glancing across at him. He immediately looked away, feeling caught out.

“I was just thinking . . . about your mom,” he replied, his brain scrambling for something to say rather than _‘I was just admiring you’_. Anne shot him him an odd look, and he sighed. “Not like that. I just mean I don’t think she likes me much.”

Anne took her time to mull over her words. “Mama’s very protective of me,” she told him. Her tone was steady, and almost lighthearted. “You may have noticed that W. D. inherited that from her too. She’s probably just worried that we’re rushing into this, and that because I’ve kept it secret it’s not going well.”

Phillip shook his head. “No, it’s not that,” he said in response. He was watching her expression carefully. She was keeping something back. “I think it’s because of Marcus. She wants you to get back together with him.” When she didn’t reply, he tried a different approach. “I never knew your ex boyfriend was a famous football player.”

“He was scouted in college,” she answered, with a timid-like smile on her face. “Now, at twenty-two, he’s one of the NFL’s highest-paid players. He’s a bit of a local legend around here. Born and raised in New Orleans, just down the street from here, and still playing for his home team.”

Anne spoke about him with a sort of fondness that was especially odd when talking about an ex. It was unsettling, especially knowing what W. D. had told him about her ex being a serial cheater. He just prayed that she still didn’t harbour any sort of feelings for Marcus, or else there would be no hope for him.

“Why did you break up?”

She didn’t want to answer that question. Instead she gave a soft laugh, and turned to look at him. “You’re really pushing your luck, all this talk about my ex,” she said, shaking her head. “Why don’t we talk about yours?”

He smirked, as she splashed him with the water from the sink. It was only a little bit, but it was enough to make him flinch. His shirt was flecked with water droplets. In return he splashed her, beginning a playful back and forth. Bubbles and water were going everywhere; on the counter, on the dishes, on one another. Anne’s curls was beginning to plaster to her face, as Phillip’s white shirt began to turn translucent. The pair of them were laughing out loud, not caring at all about their clothes.

Suddenly Anne slipped forward, the floor dangerously wet. Phillip fortunately caught her, her hands landing on his chest. Though the laughter continued, Phillip felt his heart lurch forward. Their faces were inches from one another, so close that he could feel her breath on his his lips. He could hear the kitchen door creak open, but before he could turn his head, he felt Anne’s hand on the back of his head as she leaned in close and delicately pressed her lips to his. This kiss wasn’t as frantic or as heavy as their last kiss. It was soft and it was gentle, their lips moving as one. One of her hands remained on the back of his neck, the other placed against his chest, just above his heart. His hands went instinctively around her slender waist.

When they broke apart, Phillip could have sworn that Anne had been smiling.

-

Phillip, playing the dutiful boyfriend or just being a nice guy it was hard to tell, carried their bags down the hall. Anne went to follow after him, when she felt a hand on her arm. Swivelling around, she saw her mama, frowning. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?” she asked, not bothering to keep her voice quiet.

Anne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t like lying to her family, and her mama wasn't making it easy to keep it up either. “Mama, don’t take it personally,” she told her. “I didn’t say anything because I wanted to keep it between me and Phillip, you know? As though we’re in the honeymoon stage."

Her eyes widened, as her grip on Anne’s arm tightened. “You better not be married, Anne Wheeler!”

“No mama, no!” she exclaimed, shaking her head vigorously. “It’s just a phrase. You know what I mean.”

Sighing, her mama let go of Anne’s arm, and crossed her own. “What about Marcus? You two were always great together, and he’s local. You can stay here and - “

Anne kissed her mama on the cheek, and wished her good night. Before she could turn to walk away, her mama called out to her. “I know Marcus still has feelings for you,” she said. It made Anne stop in her tracks. “It’s why I sent him to the airport to pick you up, so he could get you back. But then you go and bring some other boy home.”

“Night, mama,” she sighed, as she disappeared down the hallway.

Stepping inside her room, Anne took a deep breath. She had always known that coming home was going to be difficult, especially after four years apart. However, her mama wasn’t helping at all. Looking around her old room, she wasn’t surprised to see the nothing had changed. Her stuffed toys were lined up on her queen sized bed, and her walls were still painted the blood orange colour she had loved so much. Photographs from her teenage years were hanging on a line over her rickety, old vanity desk. A good deal of them featured Marcus.

Phillip was stood int he centre of the room, almost as though he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was still a little wet, though his short, dark hair had dried pretty quickly. It was no longer as neat as it usually was, which made him look all the more charming.

“You can make yourself at home,” she told him, grinning.

He frowned, looking a little uncomfortable. “Where am I going to stay in?” he asked.

“This one,” she told him, furrowing her brow. “It’d be weird if you stayed anywhere else. Besides, this isn’t the Hilton. It’s my room, mama’s room, or grandma’s. That’s it.” It was clear that Phillip hadn’t been expecting to share a bed with her, which made Anne feel foolish for assuming he would be alright with it. She looked down at her feet, shuffling awkwardly. “I promise I won’t make a move,” she teased.

At that, his tense and uncomfortable expression eased, and a smile flashed on his features. He chuckled, as he began to loosen his tie. “OK, but you better not wear something irresistible to sleep in,” he joked. It was incredible how after one day they’d already built up a rapport between them, after so many months of barely speaking.

His comment made her heart skip a little beat, as she bit her lip. “I’ll go ask to borrow my grandma’s nightgown then, yeah?” she retorted, smirking. As she made her way to the bathroom, her bag under her arm, she heard him laugh.

When Anne returned a few minutes later, her hair had been pulled out of her bun so that her hair fell over her shoulders. She’d washed her face and brushed her teeth, and was even wearing her retainer. She was wearing her old cheerleading top, which was now a size too small, and a pair of boy shorts. In hindsight they were perhaps not the most appropriate pyjamas to be wearing when sharing a bed with her employer for a week, however she was a notoriously bad packer and had packed the first set she’d been able to find.

Pushing the door open, she found Phillip stood at the end of the bed, in the process of sliding his trousers down his legs. She gulped and apologised, however, she didn’t leave. Instead, she stepped inside and gestured for him to carry on. “Don’t worry, I ain’t looking,” she told him, as she sat in front of her mirror. She began taking her earrings out, though caught sight of Phillip in the reflection. He was shrugging off his shirt, so that he stood in just his underwear. Anne felt her breath hitch in her throat, as she watched the fabric slide over his muscles. He had a phenomenal body, and he made her feel like a teenager again, drooling over a boy. He caught her eye in the mirror, and bashfully flashed her a smile.

They clambered into bed together, not saying a word. She reached over him and turned the light off, her hair tickling his face. She then lay beside him, trying desperately to forget what he looked like without his clothes on. It was going to be a long night.


	3. DAY TWO.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne introduces Phillip to her friends and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the long wait, this chapter has been so frustratingly difficult to write due to a creative slump I've been in.
> 
> I'm dying to read some more Anne x Phillip stories, but nothing new is really being published. I implore everyone reading this to write more fanfics - at this point I'd read anything!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!
> 
> For reference, if anyone is interested, I imagine Anne's mom as Gabrielle Union and Marcus as Odell Beckham Jr.

Phillip awoke to the sound of an elderly woman with a New Orleans accent calling his name through the door. Before his eyes had barely opened fully, he felt a warm body beside him stir. Glancing to the side he saw Anne, and his heart stopped. She was as energetic in the night as she was in the day, and had tossed and turned so much that her hair stuck out at every angle. Somehow, she still looked angelic. Her endearing features were only rendered softer by sleep, her baby-pink toned lips parted slightly and her long eyelashes brushing against the tops of her cheeks.

What made him feel anxious however wasn’t just the mere sight of Anne beside him, _in her bed_ , but the fact she had curled up beside him in the night. One of her legs was entangled with his, an arm thrown over his bare chest, and her face resting on his shoulder. She looked comfortable too, her lips curved into a small, but content, smile.

When the elderly woman, who Phillip now realised was Evangeline, swung the door open, Anne’s eyes fluttered open. “Morning lovebirds, hope I didn’t wake you?” From the smirk on her face, Evangeline knew that she had.

To his surprise, Anne didn’t move from his shoulder. To keep up the act, perhaps? She didn’t seem in the slightest to be embarrassed about their compromising position however, considering the fact that he was wearing only his underpants. "Morning grandma,” she sighed, her voice a little husky.

“You got a visitor, dear.” She stepped aside, revealing Marcus stood right beside her. Immediately Anne stiffened as she sat up and pulled the sheets a little further up her body, as though conscious of how she looked and worried what he might think. 

Marcus looked as uncomfortable as Phillip felt. Clearly the sight of his ex-girlfriend in bed with another man was unsettling. Despite the awkward situation (and Phillip hated awkward situations) he took a little pleasure out of making Marcus jealous.

“Marcus, what are you doing here?” Anne piped up, after a few seconds.

Clearing his throat, Marcus shuffled on his feet. “Dom’s having all the bridesmaids and groomsmen come downtown for clothes fittings,” he told her. “I offered to come pick you up.”

Anne nodded. “OK,” she said, then turned to Phillip. They held each other’s gaze for what felt like hours. “Can Phil come along?”

It was very obvious what Marcus thought about that question; a resounding no. “Sure,” was all he said.

When the door closed, Anne let out an exasperated sigh as she threw herself back down on the pillows. “How is it after four years he still makes me feel this way?” she groaned, staring up at the ceiling.

Phillip furrowed his brow. “What kind of way?” He hoped she had no lingering feelings for Marcus whatsoever, which he knew was selfish to think, but considering what W. D. had told him about Marcus’s sordid past, he knew that he was also wanting what was best for Anne too.

Glancing at him, she seemed a little embarrassed. “Like I’m inadequate,” she replied, in a quiet voice. “Not good enough. I was worried that he’d look at me with my bed-head and retainer in, and think ‘phew, I dodged a bullet’.”

“Anne, you’re a lot of things, but you certainly aren’t inadequate,” he told her, the words falling out of his mouth before he had time to think about them. The comment not only made him blush, but Anne too. She tried to cover it up as she climbed out of the bed, but he’d seen the faint tinge to her cheeks. So he did effect her? Phillip had often thought she was impenetrable.

He tried to avert his eyes as she crossed the room, bending down to pick out some clothes from her suitcase, but he admittedly found it difficult. The situation was remarkably too close to a deep fantasy he harboured, where the pair were a couple and spent most mornings like this. However, it was hard to ignore her superstar ex-boyfriend waiting for them downstairs.

As Anne disappeared into the bathroom with a pile of clothes under her arms, muttering something about needing to wash her face, he reached out for his phone. Opening Instagram, he began typing in Marcus’s name to find his page. The man was just a few thousand short of twenty million followers. Many of his posts featured himself shirtless, which unsurprisingly were his most popular. Others included photos of him on the pitch, mid-game, and photos of him in clubs and at parties. Marcus lived a luxurious lifestyle, the kind that Phillip himself basked in during his first few years of fame and fortune. Women, drugs and alcohol came hand-in-hand with this way of life, addiction and misery never far behind. Having gone through it and come out the other side, Phillip would not want Anne getting wrapped up in it all.

Placing his phone back down, he got out of the bed and began rifling through his own suitcase for something to wear. What should you wear to a dress fitting? He wasn’t sure. Sighing, he decided on a pair of beige trousers and a navy button up shirt. It was what he felt comfortable in. Sliding the trousers on, he caught sight of a photograph that peaked his interest. It was of Anne in a pretty pale pink dress, taken a few years ago, at what looked like her high school prom. Her hair was straightened, something that took him aback, and her make-up was soft. A much leaner-looking Marcus was stood with his arms around her waist in that typical prom pose, beaming from cheek to cheek. The pair wore sashes and each had a respective tiara and crown on. So they were Prom King and Queen then? Figures.

On the line of string over her vanity mirror hung other photographs. As he buttoned up his shirt he glanced over them, getting a glimpse into Anne’s childhood. There was one where she she couldn’t have been more than five years old, sat on a porch in the lap of an elderly man who looked remarkably like W. D. that Phillip assumed to be their grandfather. There was another photograph of Anne in middle school, her arms linked with two girls, all three of them in what looked like cheerleading uniforms, caught mid-laugh. Lastly, there was one of W. D., just as tall as he was now, wearing a basketball jersey, blurry outlines in the background making up the rest of his team. Anne, all braces and long limbs, was hanging off his back. It reminded Phillip of the six year age gap between the pair, but also highlighted to him how close the pair had always been.

Phillip couldn’t help but smile. Anne’s childhood seemed idyllic.

As he finished with his last button, he heard the door click open behind him. Anne walked in, dressed in a simple pair of blue cutoff jeans and a short sleeved lilac top. Minimal make-up, her hair thrown up in a top-knot, she looked lovely as ever.

“Creeping on seven year old me, I see?” she teased, reminding him of the Anne he knew from work.

Phillip rolled his eyes, as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. “Haha,” he muttered. He was going to dismiss her snide comment - he’d grown used to them after four months - however, he felt emboldened.“I didn’t realise I had the pleasure of addressing a Prom Queen.”

Once again Anne’s cheeks looked a little pink. She shrugged, glancing over at the picture in question. “It was a small school,” she merely said. Then with a smirk she said; “You gonna brush your teeth? I ain’t showing you off to all my friends with bad breath.”

As Phillip stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, he came to the conclusion that Anne made sarcastic and dismissive remarks to keep her walls up. Everything was starting to add up, slowly but surely pieces of a puzzle falling into place. She didn’t want to talk about Marcus, so she would throw the attention back at him. She would do it at work too when he’d critique a routine she’d worked hard on, or if he asked too many personal questions. For someone who enjoyed talking, she certainly didn’t enjoy talking about herself.

He vowed to change that. He wanted her to open up to him, to trust him. Unable to explain it, he found himself wanting her to like him, wanting her friends and family to like him. In truth, there was a small part of him (albeit it was growing immensely) that was treating this visit as though it were real; that the pair were actually a couple. A week ago that would have sounded stupid, but already after twenty-four hours together they were laughing and joking and getting on. Who’s to say feelings wouldn’t develop?

Ensuring his breath smelt good, he opened the door and saw Anne applying some lip gloss in the mirror. She was fretting over how she looked he could just tell; she had that same nervous expression she had on her face that she would wear before going on stage. Usually she’d apply some more blush, a little bit of mascara and after a pep talk from Lettie and the others, she’d be raring to go. It was Marcus making her this anxious, and that made his heart sink a little.

Catching his eye out of the corner of hers, she slid the lip gloss back into her pocket and turned around. “It’s just dress fittings,” she told him, giving him the once over. “You don’t have to always dress smartly.”

Phillip shrugged. “I’m comfortable like this,” he replied. “Why, would you rather I change?"

As the pair of them headed towards the living room, Anne took his hand and squeezed. “Don’t worry, you look good.”

Anne’s comment gave him that extra boost of confidence he needed as they walked into the room, his eyes landing first on Marcus, who was making Anne’s mom laugh. Fortunately not everyone seemed as smitten with Marcus, as Evangeline sat frowning at him, her nose crinkled as though she were displeased with his presence. She looked up immediately and beamed, lighting up as she greeted her granddaughter.

“My, my Phillip don’t you look smart!” she exclaimed, interrupting Marcus and Gloria’s conversation. “Nice to see some young men still know how to dress.” She glanced, not too discretely, at Marcus, who was wearing a matching black Nike tracksuit. It was obvious that she wasn’t the footballer’s biggest fan. That’s when something in Phillip’s brain clicked; she had brought Marcus into Anne’s room so that he would see her cuddled up to someone new, ensuring that he knows she was taken.

To avoid any more of Evangeline’s sharp-tongued comments, Marcus ushered them out of the house and into his ridiculously small sports car. Phillip made sure to be the one helping Anne into the car, as she chose to sit in the back this time. This made for an awkward journey, as that meant he was now sat in the front beside her ex-boyfriend. The radio station was playing old throwback songs, majority of which he had never heard before. Anne and Marcus, however, seemed very familiar with the tunes.

“Yo, do you remember this one from Trevor’s graduation party?” he called out to her, as he turned the song up ever so slightly. 

She began laughing, then creased her brow. “Oh yeah! That was the night you got into a fight with Calvin for dancing with me. If I remember right, you broke his nose!”

For the first time, Marcus actually grinned at Phillip. “If you’d have seen the way this guy was dancing with her, you’d have broken his nose too.” Phillip wanted to say he was better than that, that he’d have a bit more restraint, but all sorts of image came flooding to mind of Anne pressed up against another man and he knew he’d struggle to hold back his jealousy.

They arrived at the wedding shop within fifteen or so minutes. As they pulled up, Phillip could feel the butterflies swarming in his stomach. He’d met her mom and her grandma already and whilst that had been daunting enough, he was just as anxious meeting her friends. Holding his hand out to help her out of the car, he gave her a semi-enthusiastic grin. Squeezing his hand for reassurance, as though that had become their ‘thing’ in the last day, she flashed him a dazzling smile that - nearly - made him forget all his worries.

“Just be yourself,” she told him, half whispering.

They began walking across the sidewalk towards the shop, with Anne gazing up at the building with wide-eyes. It was a pristine, elegant looking store, with exquisitely hand-sewn dresses and suits in the window, all of which undoubtedly came with a hefty price tag. "I thought we’d be going to 'Auntie Maxine’s’?” she asked Marcus, confused. She turned to Phillip to explain; "It’s where we all got our prom dresses and suits. Auntie Maxine is like the neighbourhood ‘Fairy Godmother’.”

Smiling at the sentiment, he watched as Marcus came to stand beside them, smugly shaking his head. “Nah, I’m helping pay for the wedding ain’t I? And I only want the best.” Spoken like the peacock he was.

The three of them stepped inside the shop, causing the little bell above the door to ring delicately. Immediately a swarm of people gathered around them, in particular Anne, who was hoisted off the ground by a man with dark skin who was much smaller than she was. She began to shriek, then burst out laughing as she swatted his shoulder, calling out for him to put her down. When he did she gasped, her hands reaching out to his hair, which was long and braided into twists that fell about his face. “Shameik! Oh Lord, I wouldn’t have recognised you!” she exclaimed.

“Good looking, right?” he teased. “Maybe now I got a shot with you.”

She laughed it off - although some part of Phillip told him that Shameik wasn’t joking around - as she threw her arms around a heavily tattooed woman, her chocolate-coloured wavy hair elbow-length, her complexion the same colour as Anne's. As she pulled away Anne gasped, her eyes shooting towards the very obvious baby bump underneath her dungarees. “You’re pregnant? How didn’t I know? Who’s the father?”

The woman proudly held her bump, as she softly pulled Anne’s hand forward to touch it too. “Only five months,” she replied. “And girl, you ain’t been round here! Of course you ain’t gonna know, plus I don’t do social media. As for the daddy, you remember Oscar in the year above us? The one with the dope Jeep?”

Anne almost squealed, her excitement bubbling away inside. “Lani, I’m so happy for you! You gotta let me come to the Christening, I’ve missed New Orleans’s church services.”

Next up to greet her home were two very attractive, very tall men, one of them with dark skin and a bleached blonde hair, the other Chinese-Malaysian with jet black hair. They each enveloped Anne in great big hugs, kissing her on the cheek. Phillip couldn’t quite catch their names. “You have to tell us what it’s like up in New York,” the dark-haired one beamed, as the other nodded. “Yeah, we wanna know all about our girl tearing up the big city,” the blonde one chimed in.

After them were two very pretty girls, who once again squealed as they hugged Anne. Phillip couldn’t hear much of their conversation as it was made up of fits of laughter and very fast paced chattering. 

As the initial excitement of Anne’s arrival started to wear off, Phillip began noticing her friends start to look his way, eyeing him suspiciously as though he had merely walked in by accident. Noticing the odd looks he was getting, Anne reached out to hold his hand in hers, their fingers linking together. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Marcus watching them with his arms crossed. It was infuriating him to see Anne with a new man and, selfishly, that spurred Phillip on.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Phillip,” she introduced, sweetly. He could see the flicker of nerves in the way she held her breath. “My boyfriend.”

Phillip wasn’t sure what to expect from Anne’s six childhood friends, Marcus not included, and so he waited with some trepidation to see how they’d react. Once again, he wanted them to like him. Wanted Anne to see that they liked him. Fortunately, they all smiled back at him. They all shook his hand, welcoming him to the city politely. As Lani, the five month pregnant one, pulled him into an unexpected hug, he caught Anne’s joyous expression. She was over-the-moon, which made him feel glad.

The genders then separated to opposite sides of the room, where the groomsmen were being shown the suits and the bridesmaids the dresses. Anne however stayed in the middle, with Phillip and Marcus. Phillip couldn’t help but notice that Marcus was clinging far too close to Anne, stealing intimate glances over at her when she wasn’t looking. The pair of them were waiting for the bride and groom to arrive, as they were the best man and maid of honour. From what Anne had told him, Dominique was very particular about how she wanted her wedding to look, down to the dress code to the colour of the napkins.

Within a matter of minutes Anne’s phone pinged. Glancing down at it, she sighed. “Dom’s held up at her grandma's, and Jordan ain’t coming cause he has to work,” she told them. “She says there are racks of clothes she’s pre-approved that we can look through. She’ll be here as soon as she can.” Marcus’s eyes lit up. Before he could say anything Anne read out another text from her friend. “Dom says that you boys ain’t wearing all black either, you gotta wear something she’s picked out.”

He sighed and walked over to tell the other groomsmen the news, whilst Anne took Phillip’s hand once again as the pair walked over to the rack of dresses. Lani was shaking her head, snorting as she ran her fingers over the clothes. “None of these are gonna fit me and my bump!” she exclaimed.

Phillip watched as Anne took a sneaky look at the price tag and saw her face drop. He knew that these dresses, in a designer boutique like this, would cost thousands. Even his own suit he had brought with him to wear to the wedding was bespoke, costing him a pretty penny. However, money wasn’t really an issue for him. Anne, on the other hand, was clearly not accustomed to such a lifestyle. He knew she and W. D. lived in Harlem, in an apartment that barely passed health and safety codes. He’d overheard her once discussing why she had taken up the hobby of sewing; so she could mend and improve upon second-hand clothes. Despite the fact that Marcus had boldly proclaimed to be paying everything, he knew that she was still uncomfortable about the situation, and so he wanted to make her feel better.

Holding up a soft pink gown, floor length with a little train and some sparkly embellishment, he offered it to Anne. “What about this one?” he suggested, noticing that as he spoke all three of the other bridesmaids all looked up at him.

“It’s very pink,” she replied, with furrowed eyebrows.

Phillip nodded. “Same colour as that wig you wear in the show, and I know you like that wig,” he reminded her. Her leotard in the show was a wonderful purple colour too, but none of the dresses were purple.

Unable to bite back her smile, she reached out for the gown. “I do like it,” she admitted. Her eyes were raking over the dress, as she weighed over the pros and cons in her head. “Alright, I’ll try it on. Thank you.” Before she disappeared into the changing room she pecked his cheek. Feeling a blush creeping up, he shrugged it off. _It was all part of the act, he had to remind himself._

“You really are smitten, ain’t you?” one of the unnamed girls teased, her arms crossed. Her dark hair was glossy and her doe eyes were sparkling. Something about the curve of her lips reminded Phillip of one of the pictures in Anne’s room.

Chuckling, he shrugged. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he merely replied.

The girl grinned back, happy with his answer. “Well I’m Laura,” she told him, and gestured to the girl beside her. “This is my sister, Logan.”

Logan was older, but just as pretty. Her hair was in tight curls, braided on one side of her head. She had similar bright eyes and a pretty smile. “So, you work with her in a show then, in New York?”

He nodded, apprehensively. He didn’t want to go against Anne had told them about being some kind of big star, but he thought that if he told them the truth - she was in a show on Broadway - that they’d be impressed all the same. Her career wasn’t as dull and mediocre as she thought. “Yes, on Broadway,” he told them. “She’s very good. Sings and dances - has the audience on the edge of their seats every night.”

Laura cocked her head to the side. “Are you in the show too? You don’t look much like a performer.”

Sheepishly, he shrugged again. “Some nights, if we’re short-staffed,” he answered. Truthfully, he rather enjoyed being on stage, more than he thought he would. “I mostly produce, however.”

They eyed him up and down, as if trying to imagine him singing and dancing in any capacity. Shifting on his feet, Phillip instead turned the attention back to them. “So, how do you know Anne?”

“We were on the cheerleading team together,” Logan explained. “Anne was the captain. We’d been friendly ever since kindergarten, but she’d always most hung out with boys and Dom. It wasn’t until high school we all started going out as a group.”

Phillip glanced over at Marcus, who was loudly joking around with his friends. “Has she always been close with him?” he muttered, out of curiosity.

“Ever since they were born, pretty much,” Laura told him. “They were neighbours as kids. Walked to school together, got haircuts together, had baths together.” 

Phillip resisted the urge to grit his teeth. To find out Anne’s ex-boyfriend was a world famous footballer was one thing, to find out they’d known each other since birth and had been as close as close can be, it pained him. The tension-filled four months he had with her was nothing compared to the years of history the she and Marcus shared.

Sensing his agitation, Lani stepped forward. “We’ve never been his biggest fan,” she assured him under her breath, gesturing to Laura and Logan, who shook their heads in agreement. “We’re glad to see she’s happy with someone who ain’t gonna break her heart.” At that she stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “You ain’t gonna break her heart, are you?”

Before he could reply, he heard a little cough over his shoulder. Swivelling round he saw Anne stood in the doorway of the dressing room, wearing the pink gown. She was undeniably beautiful. The dress fit perfectly, although it was a lot risqué than he had initially thought - the bodice of the dress was rather plunging, the material cut all the way down to her mid-waist, there was a large slit up the leg, stopping at the top of her thigh, and to top it off it was backless. There was something about the dress, her flowing hair and her radiant beauty that reminded Phillip of illustrations he’d seen of the goddess Aphrodite. He gaped at her, much like a fish gasping for air when it is pulled from the water, completely in awe of her.

However, she didn’t look too pleased. Her shoulders were slumped and her lips were pouting. “Honestly, what do you think?”

She was looking right at him, not at her friends, so he knew she wanted his opinion. “Honestly? Anne, you’re a goddess.”

Tucking a curl behind her ear, she looked down. Anne was never one for taking compliments. “Can you do me a favour? My hair is caught on my necklace.” She turned around and lifted up her hair, showing him the few strands caught on the clasp of her necklace. Phillip bit his lip as he walked towards her. His fingertips brushed the skin on the nape of her neck and he felt her shudder. Gently, he began to work away at the knot. He could see biting her lip and wondered if this was the effect he had on her. “Is Marcus watching?” she whispered.

Feeling his heart sink, he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that her ex was indeed watching. “Yes.”

At that Anne saw an opportunity and took it. She leant back into him and laughed at some imaginary joke. Her back pressed against him, his pulse quickened. Phillip could smell her perfume, which was floral and intoxicating. After fixing her hair on the clasp, he ran his hands down her shoulders, before he stepped away. He was too close to her, her perfume going straight to his head, reminding him of what he couldn’t have. Anne turned around, her eyes locking with his. She looked as though she wanted to say something.

“Do we all get to wear that dress? ‘Cause girl you look incredible in that!” Laura called out, pulling them both from their stupor.

-

Anne couldn’t believe how well Phillip was playing the part. Her friends had taken a real liking to him. Logan and Laura were using him as a post to lean up against as they tried on different shoes, Shameik was getting his opinion on tie colours, Demetrius and Ross were showing him funny videos on their phones, and Lani had even laughed at some things he had said (she was notoriously hard to crack).

Anne couldn’t explain it, but she felt oddly proud of him, catching his eye several times throughout the course of the day and flashing him a wide smile. He didn’t have to be there - in the boutique or in New Orleans, but he was. She appreciated him, for the first time since knowing him. He wasn’t this pretty rich boy who threw money at problems that she’d had him labelled as. Anne felt guilty for being so . . . _nasty_ to him, when he really didn’t deserve it.

As she tried on the fourth dress in a row, an unappealing yellow colour, she caught sight of something in the reflection that made her smile widely. Lani was letting Phillip reach out and touch her bump as the baby kicked. Both of their expressions were joyful; Lani was beaming from ear-to-ear as his jaw dropped, his eyes full of wonder. Something about the interaction made her heart burst.

Turning back to the dress, she frowned, adjusting the straps. It didn’t fit right and it certainly didn’t look right. It fell just below her knees, full of unnecessary embellishments like ruffles, a few sequins and the odd bow at the back. There was no way she’d wear the dress in front of a church full of people - especially not for the price on the tag. Her mind kept wandering back to the first one she’d tried on. It fit amazingly, made her look and feel like a million dollars, and the soft pink colour perfectly complimented her skin tone. How did Phillip know that it was just what she wanted? She didn’t even know she wanted it! Perhaps he knew more about her then she thought.

As if reading her thoughts she felt Phillip walk up behind her, his eyes trailing over the dress. She didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest under his gaze like she did when other guys looked at her. It was strange his effect on her. He had the ability to make her feel so at ease some times, and then toe-curlingly nervous other times.

“You’re not a fan are you?” he asked her, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The material of his navy shirt was working hard to fit around his muscles. He bit his lip and she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat.

Anne shook her head, crinkling her nose up. “It ain’t me.”

He chuckled softly. “You did look incredible in that pink one,” he told her, with a wide grin.

She was taken aback by his compliment. There wasn’t anybody close enough to hear them, so there wasn’t any need to be saying sweet things for the sake of keeping up appearances. Did he genuinely mean it then? She blushed, as she looked down at her feet. “You don’t have to say that.”

Phillip stepped closer to her, biting his lip again. The way he was looking at her made her breath hitch in her throat. “He’s watching again, isn’t he?” She knew he meant Marcus. A quick glance towards the shelf of ties proved to her that her ex-boyfriend was indeed watching, as usual. Anne nodded, as she fiddled with one of the annoying ruffles on her dress.

At that, he reached out and curled a strand out of hair round her ear. “Let’s give him something to watch,” he whispered into her ear. His voice sent shivers down her spine and his touch made her skin feel electric. He took her hand in his and pulled her gently towards one of the dressing rooms. Tugging the curtain across, she suddenly became aware of how small the room was. The pair were inches away from one another, so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

Bashfully, she crossed her arms across her chest. “Now what?”

Phillip scratched his head, seeming just as sheepish as she was. “I don’t know,” he replied, with a shrug. “I guess I just got caught up.”

“What exactly are you wanting Marcus to think is happening in here?” she asked him, the awkwardness starting to slip away as the pair looked at each other. Yet again there was something about him, about the look in his eye, that made her feel at ease, even confined in such a small space together.

“Well, I suppose I wanted him to think we're one of those couples that can’t keep their hands off each other,” he said, with a hint of a smile on his face. It was cheeky of him, this playful side, and she rather liked it. It wasn’t a side to him she thought he had, which made her think that she perhaps brought out the worst of him at work. That made her feel remorseful.

She coyly tilted her head to one side, wondering how deep his mischievousness ran. “What makes you think we’d be that sort of couple?”

“Hypothetically speaking?” he murmured, in a low voice that made her knees weak. She could have sworn he took a step closer. “If I was your boyfriend and I’d spent the whole morning watching you try on gorgeous dress after gorgeous dress, looking unbelievable in all of them, then I don’t think I would have been able to resist you.” She’d never noticed how dazzling his blue eyes were before, or how easy it was to get lost in them. They were centimetres away from each other now, with every fibre of Anne’s body screaming at her to kiss him.

All of a sudden the curtain flew open and Dom was stood on the other side, eyes wide. “You’re here!” she exclaimed, initially oblivious to the situation. She threw her arms around Anne, muttering on about how it was so good to have her home, when her eyes landed on Phillip. Flitting between the pair, she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, sorry! Did I interrupt something?”

Brushing it off, both Anne and Phillip shook their heads as they left the small dressing room, blushing like naughty school children caught red handed. She saw Marcus looking their way, teeth gritted, and she felt triumphant.

-

Anne had changed back into her usual clothes and after discussing with her friends, they came to the decision that they should all wear the pink dress. She was thrilled - it suited her the best out of all the others and made her feel great. She also couldn’t deny that the way Phillip looked at her in that dress wasn’t a bonus too.

The girls all stood in a huddle in front of the till, chattering excitedly about what shoes will go with the colour, and what lipstick they should all wear. The poor lady behind the counter looked very flustered and perhaps a little scared - there were four bridesmaid dresses and four suits to ring up and she was the only one on the shop floor.

Marcus had taken charge, putting his credit card down on the table before Dom could argue otherwise. Anne wasn’t used to this Marcus, as the one she knew barely had enough money to scrape by to afford milkshakes for the pair of them when they were fifteen. Now here he was, paying thousands of dollars for clothes he wasn’t even going to get to wear.

She was last in the line, and as she warily went to place the dress on the counter - she still felt uncomfortable about asking someone to buy her such an expensive thing - she she looked up at Marcus. He looked at her with those dark brown eyes, eyes that she could never say no to. “Good choice,” he told her, in that deep voice that never failed to make her feel lightweight and giddy. “You look sexy as - “

Before he could continue, Anne felt Phillip move to stand next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She felt a little irritated at his appearance as she really wanted Marcus to finish what he had been saying. However, she couldn’t let him see her annoyance, so instead plastered a smile across her face.

“Let me get this,” he said to her, already reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

Immediately she turned to look at him, jaw open. “No, I can’t ask you - “

“I know you didn’t ask and that’s why I’m doing it,” he replied, earnestly. His little smile made her irritation disappear in an instant.

“I’ve got it,” Marcus interjected, seeming slightly put out.

Phillip however handed his credit card over to the shop assistant, with a shrug. “You never ask for anything,” he told her, ignoring Marcus’s mutterings. “Let me do this for you."

She didn’t want to cause a scene, especially in front of Marcus, but Anne didn’t want Phillip forking out the money for her dress - not when they weren’t truly a couple. She shook her head. “No, it’s too much - “

“Please, Anne,” he said, in a soft voice that was hard to say no to. “You deserve the world, so let me at least buy you this dress.”

Did he mean that? His expression was so earnest, with his piercing blue eyes pleading with her. Whilst hand had fell from his waist, it was now tangled up in her own hand by her side. His fingers linked with hers, and she noticed how the pair of them had become almost like magnets, drawn to one another over the last few days.

Finally, she gave in. She’d figure out a way to pay him back, but for now she would let him pay. Nodding, she pressed a kiss to his cheek - it wasn’t her pretending any more, but instead her way of thanking him. As she pulled away she realised she may have allowed her lips to linger longer than necessary.

With all the suits and dresses tucked away safely in bags, they all left the shop and stood out on the sidewalk. The midday sun was starting to beat down on them, the glare from the sun blinding everyone. “What do we do now?” Demetrius, the one with bleached blonde hair, asked. “I took the whole day off work for this.”

They all stood around making suggestions, some of which were good, some of which were downright terrible; Ross suggested they all go alligator hunting in the creek they played in when they were young. Phillip’s horrified face made Anne burst into a fit of giggles and was nearly worth the visit to the creek after all. However, an idea popped into her head as they were starting to list silly ideas.

“How’s about you all come back to mine? Mama wanted us all back together for a cookout anyway.”

The invitation was met with enthusiastic grins and cheers. Each getting into their respective cars, they all drove the fifteen minutes to Anne’s house. As expected, her mama wasn’t in the slightest bit irritated by the arrival of eleven twenty-something year olds, all hungry and rowdy. She wasn’t even caught off-guard - her fridge was stocked full of burgers, hot dogs, yams, corn-on-the-cobs, black-eyed peas, collard greens and left-over cornbread. Her grandma had even been baking and made fresh banana pudding for dessert.

As her mama started cooking, more people turned up. “Anne, come say hello to your Auntie and Uncle!” she called into the garden, where Anne was helping set up the table. Glancing up at Phillip, who was helping with the cutlery, she saw him tense up. More family for him to meet. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze, and beamed at him.

“Just be yourself,” she reminded him, echoing her earlier statement.

They walked back inside and Anne could feel her stomach churning with nerves. She’d not seen her family in four years - would they resent her for it? Would they behave like her mama and turn their noses up at Phillip?

Stood in the doorway with bowl of potato salad and a six pack of beers stood her Auntie Janet and Uncle Damian. Her Auntie Janet looked radiant, with lusciously long hair and a fantastic green dress. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw Anne, thrusting the potato salad into her husbands arms as she held her own out wide. “Is that my little niece all grown!” she cried out.

Feeling relieved that there (seemed to be) no hard feelings, Anne enveloped her auntie in a big hug. “Hey auntie,” she said with a smile. Her uncle joined in on the hug, still clutching the bowl and beers. He kissed her on the head, making her chuckle. “Hey uncle.”

“Missed you beanpole,” he teased, as she pulled away. He was still wearing his police uniform and Anne was pleased to see his new officer’s rank slides.

“I missed you all too,” she replied. She could see her Auntie Janet eyeing up Phillip behind her, trying to work out who this strange man was. Anne gestured for him to stand beside her and took his hand. “Auntie, uncle, I’d like you to meet Phillip . . . my boyfriend.”

Auntie Janet was her mama’s older sister - only by a year. A wonderful mother, a successful cook with her own restaurant, and a fantastic auntie, she fulfilled the role of big sister accordingly. That meant behaving like a second parent to Anne and W. D. their whole lives, even when it wasn’t necessary. This worried Anne, as she expected Janet to act just as her mama had and be overly critical of Phillip. Normally, the pair were as thick as thieves, always sticking by one another’s opinion on everything. However, her auntie broke from tradition as she gave him a wide smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she welcomed warmly, enveloping him in a hug that took him by surprise. “Anne never told us she had a boyfriend.”

“Anne didn’t feel the need to tell _anyone,_ ” her mama chimed in, her tone strained.

Uncle Damian chuckled as he shook Phillip’s hand. “It takes a brave man to date a Wheeler woman,” he told him, grinning. “Have you met any more of the family?”

“Just Ms Wheeler and Evangeline,” he replied. Anne could hear the nerves in his voice. She wished her mama had told her that she’d invited the family round so she could give Phillip a bit of pre-warning. However, as with everything else, he was handling it well.

“You’ll have met W. D. in New York,” Auntie Janet pointed out, then turned to her sister. “What does mama think of him?”

“Mama just adores him, of course,” she sighed, as though Phillip wasn’t even there. “Although, she likes any man with a pulse and broad shoulders."

Before she could make any more snide comments, the door swing wide open, as Auntie Simone burst through, clutching not one, not two, but three bottles of wine. “Where’s my favourite niece at?” she called out, before spotting Janet in the doorway. “You know I’m kidding, I say that to all of them.”

Auntie Simone was the youngest of five siblings, only seventeen years older than Anne. The pair had always been very close, with Simone being the one to encourage both Anne’s dreams, and Anne’s bad habits, for example she’d been the one to buy Anne her first thong. Bounding over to her niece, Simone wrapped her arms around her and shrieked.

“Lord I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed. She spotted Phillip seconds later, her eyes growing wide. Not one to hold back, she wolf-whistled. “Is he yours? Damn girl, you done good up north!”

He didn’t quite know how to handle Simone’s rowdy energy, his body suddenly tense. Seeing Phillip squirm a little, despite feeling guilty for putting him in that position, she couldn’t help but enjoy pushing his buttons.

As Janet, Simone and her mama all gathered in the kitchen, chattering away over the simmering pot of stew over the sink, Anne pulled Phillip aside. “How you doing?” she inquired, watching his expression closely for any signs of cracking. She knew that he must be a little on edge about the whole situation, but she didn’t want him to feel pressured by her.

To her surprise, he managed a smile. It seemed genuine, and it was infectious. “I’m alright,” he assured her. “Your friends couldn’t have been nicer, and I like your family.”

Anne placed a hand to his shoulder, ignoring how muscular it felt under her fingertips, and grinned. “That’s good to hear,” she replied. “I told you, just be yourself. You are actually quite interesting.”

He gasped, his eyes widening, as he feigned shock. “Did you just pay me a compliment?” he asked, clutching his chest in mock horror.

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Don’t get used to it,” she muttered, though couldn’t stop smiling.

-

What Phillip had assumed would be a tame, rather intimate get together actually turned out to be a rather raucous, lively party, with easily forty people crammed into the Wheeler’s humble house and backyard. Nearly everyone had been introduced to Phillip, some more welcoming than others. For instance Anne’s uncles on her mom’s side, Uncle Louis Jr, Uncle Terry and Uncle Marcel, had all approached him with stern looks in their eyes and tense jaws. Each had given him a different threat, terrifying but creative, if he was to ever break Anne’s heart. He took them more seriously when he realised that despite Marcel being a jazz musician, Louis Jr was a football coach and Terry was a police detective. They were certainly capable of following through on their promises to break his legs and snap his tendons and whatever else they’d do to him. However, after the initial coldness, they’d all shaken his hand and wished him a pleasant visit.

This seemed to be the case for most of Anne’s relatives. Harsh at first, but quick to welcome him into the family afterwards.

Food began being served and once again Phillip was not disappointed. Every mouthful was just as juicy, just as flavoursome, just as tasty as the one before it. He’d helped himself to another plate when Anne’s older cousin, Aja, offered him another burger. Aja was a hairdresser with twin boys, Sammy and Ben, both of them six years old. She explained that she did all the family's hair, including Gloria’s braids.

Her husband, Alfie, stood beside him as they helped themselves to more collard greens. “Don’t let them scare you,” he told Phillip, gesturing towards Anne’s five aunties, her mom, and her grandma. They were sat by the fire pit, huddled together, occasionally glancing his way. “They’re all bark, no bite. They were exactly the same with me, especially Aja’s mama, Bernadine. Now, she brings me homemade apple cobblers at work because she worries I’m not eating properly. They’ll warm to you. Give it time.”

Phillip nodded. “Thanks, man.”

Alfie clapped him on the back. “No worries,” he turned to join his wife, when he broke out into a wide grin. “Keep the PDA to a minimum for a while though, yeah?”

Taking a seat, Phillip caught Anne’s eye as she chatted away to Lani and her boyfriend, Oscar. She cut her conversation short and moved over to him, sitting beside him. She was wrapped in a navy college hoodie - a present from her cousin Chloe, who was studying English Lit at UCLA - and she’d even put on a pair of glasses. The fire reflected in her bright, doe eyes, she looked the calmest he’d ever seen her. A permanent smile had been on her lips ever since she’d been surrounded by friends and family. She caught him looking at her and tilted her head to the side.

“What is it?” she asked him, softly.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he replied, remarking to himself how adorable she looked in said glasses.

Anne shrugged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Carlyle,” she told him, giving him a mischievous wink that sent a shiver down his spine. She usually only ever used his surname to mock him, but in this case he realised she was doing it as a reminder of why he didn’t know a lot about her - he was her employer.

He chuckled slightly. “I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. Setting aside his empty paper plate, he looked around at the BBQ. Everywhere he looked people were laughing, all enjoying themselves. Children were running around the garden, their giggles barely audible over the unbelievably good music blasting out of the small stereo system. Food was still cooking away on the barbecue, the smell permeating the air with a heavenly aroma. “It must have been nice, growing up like this.”

“It was,” she nodded, her smile growing. “We had cookouts like this almost every weekend because there was almost always a reason to celebrate. Somebody’s birthday, somebody got married, somebody was born, somebody graduated. Even when I passed my driving test, or got an A in a quiz, mama would insist on having people over.”

As she was about to continue, a newcomer to the party bound over to give Anne a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. He was tall, easily over six feet, in his late forties, with dark skin, neat beard and evident muscles, he was a handsome man. A police badge was clipped to his belt.

“Welcome home, kiddo,” he greeted, not wanting to let her go.

Anne seemed equally as attached, her face buried in his neck. “Missed you pops,” she replied.

Finally, he pulled away. Holding her at arms length, he shook his head. “Somehow you look just like you did when you were a little girl and so grown at the same time,” he told her, full of disbelief. His eyes darted across to Phillip, where they narrowed. “Who’s this?”

“Pops, this is my boyfriend, Phillip,” she answered. As he got out of his chair, Phillip felt oddly pleased that she had said his name with a smile and not with caution. It was as though the idea was growing on her.

The man seemed wary, his expression hardening as he looked Phillip up and down. He seemed to be weighing up his options; punch him, or shake his hand. Fortunately, he chose the latter. His grip was strong, intentionally, just as Anne’s uncles’s had been. It was a warning.

“I best go say hello to your mama before she thinks I’m avoiding her,” he said to Anne, as he started to walk off. Before that, however, he pointed a finger at Phillip. “We need a chat before you go back to New York.” With that he crossed the garden and joined Gloria, kissing her cheek gently.

As Anne and Phillip sat back down, he saw her watching her mama and this man. “Is that your dad?” he asked her, curiously. He had always assumed that one of her parents had been white, due to the colour of her complexion.

There was a long pause. Phillip worried he had asked something too personal, when she shook her head. “No, Isaiah’s not my dad,” she replied, no hostility to her voice at all. “But he is W. D.’s. He and my mama are childhood sweethearts. They were married just before graduation and W. D. was born not that long after. I think the pressures of married life was too much too soon for them, especially so young, and they divorced when W. D. was four. But Isaiah’s a good man. He stuck around, and he’s been like a dad to me my whole life.”

Phillip was amazed at how much Anne was opening up to him. Everything about her life, up until this trip, had all been speculation, things he’d worked out or imagined for himself. Now, not only had he met her family, but she was telling him about them, completely of her own choosing. Emboldened by her honesty so far, he leant forward and asked; “Where is your dad?” He then added; "You don’t have to tell me, of course.”

Anne looked as though she was going to answer him. Her lips parted and she drew a deep breath, when a small curly-haired girl ran towards her. It was Jeanie, her two-year old second cousin. Until today the two had never met, but Anne was enamoured with her the second she’d clapped eyes on the beautiful and inquisitive little girl. Hoisting her into her lap, she let Jeanie show her the doll she had brought with her.

That night, as they got ready for bed, Phillip couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. The barbecue had gone really well, with her family making him feel very welcome. Gloria had still been a little icy towards him, but had made him a mug of hot cocoa to take to bed, which he took to mean she was warming, slowly, towards him. Anne had hung up her dress on the back of her door with pride, taking a few minutes to ensure it wasn’t getting crinkled or creased in the bag. She turned to him, as he set his drink down on the bedside table, and looked him deep in the eyes.

“Did you mean what you said in the shop?” she asked him, almost timidly.

He knew exactly what she meant. “That you deserve the world?” he replied, spotting a slight blush creep up on her cheeks. “Yes, I did. You’re a hard worker, Anne. You’re always the first in at rehearsals and the last out after a show. I’d like to say that I hope some fancy talent scout is going to see you dance one night and whisk you away and make you a star, but that would mean you’d leave the theatre and I . . . I don’t want you leaving.”

Before he knew it she had leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him, encasing him in a hug. It was the first time she had ever hugged him and he hoped it wasn’t the last. Her curls tickled his face and her intoxicating lavender scent filled his nose. “Thank you,” she whispered, her lips so close to his ear that he shuddered. Then she pulled away and it took everything he had not to pull her back. “I promise I’ll pay you back, whether it be cash or extra hours at - “

He shook his head. “Please, it’s a gift,” he assured her. “Think of it as a bonus, if you like.”

Reluctantly, she accepted that he didn’t want any money for it, and broke out into a wide grin. Then, she sat in front of the vanity mirror as she took her make-up off with a wipe, her eyes occasionally meeting his in the reflection. Feeling a lot less self-conscious around her, he began to strip down to his underwear. He knew she was watching him and that made his heart beat erratically. He climbed into bed, taking a sip of his cocoa as Anne stood up and crossed the room to the door, where she stepped out into the hallway with her pyjamas under her arm. The faint pink tinge was now a deeper coral colour, implying he made her nervous. He rather enjoyed this shyer side to her, knowing that he was able to crack through her usually composed exterior.

Anne stepped back into the room, wearing the irresistible combination of a pair of boy shorts and her old cheerleading top again. Her figure was on full display. He didn’t avert his eyes this time, as he had done the previous night, and instead met her stare as she crossed the room to join him in bed. “Did you bring those _‘pyjamas'_ on purpose just to have an effect on me?” he asked her, with air quotes around the word ‘pyjamas’.

She laughed, though it sounded shaky. “Oh, because you think sleeping shirtless isn’t doing things to me too?” she retorted, biting her lip. If only she knew how sexy she looked when she did that . . .

Phillip wasn’t sure what to do with that information. So he ‘did things’ to her? What exactly did that mean? Were they good things? His mind was racing, butterflies in his stomach swarming.

“Everyone loves you, you know,” she told him, already laying down with her head on the pillow. Her voice suddenly sounded sleepy, her eyes beginning to look heavy. “Except mama, but she’ll come around. You’re doing good.”

Setting aside his empty mug, he laid down beside her, and smiled. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes locked with hers. “I’m having more fun on this trip than I thought I would.”

“I knew you’d enjoy yourself once you loosened up,” she teased. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile so much."

“It’s you that brings this side out in me,” he continued, honestly. With the day being a success, Phillip could feel his feelings for Anne bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill out. “I thought having to pretend to be a couple would be torture, but I suppose I rather like being your boyfriend, Anne.”

She giggled, a rather pretty sound. “That’s good. You’re a decent actor. Marcus is getting really jealous, I can tell. He kept looking over at us all day.”

His heart sunk back down, like an anchor cut off from a ship. Of course, it was all about Marcus. He was foolish to think otherwise. Sighing, he turned over as he saw Anne’s eyes slipping shut.


End file.
